Friends with Benefits
by RogerCrane
Summary: Han and Leia. Habit, obsession, infatuation. And *still* only friends. Friends with benefits. Very nice benefits, thank you very much. NEW FIC for the last day of 2019. Hell has frozen over. AU. Warnings: L, A, S (Cover art: The AMAZING Leela Starsky)


Friends with Benefits | CorellianBlue | 2019

**Friends with Benefits**

**by CorellianBlue (2019)**

_Warnings: language; adult situations; sexual content_

* * *

It had become more than habit. It was now bordering on obsession. Everything–her whole existence–centered on Han Solo and had done so for the last five days.

_Five days…_

Had it only been half a Standard week since she'd had sex for the first time?

Five days since she had _easily_ agreed to having unencumbered, no commitment, no relationship, no-strings-attached sex with a friend. Her friend. A friend with obvious benefits.

Five glorious days of making love–screwing–_fucking–_Han Solo. And not just once, or once a day, but _multiple_ times each day.

When she thought about it, it was astonishing that it had taken the likes of Han Solo, a man she shouldn't be interested in on any level let alone sexually, to show her this new world. But, as she frequently reminded herself, they were just friends; there was nothing more to it. That's what she had been telling herself for the last five days. There was no _relationship_ between her and Han. Just friends.

Leia Organa was a determined, mission-oriented woman. She was confident in her ability to concentrate on her role within the Alliance, while at the same time being able to corral some energy towards Han.

_Some energy_, she mused. Since she had discovered what had been previously unimagined levels of pleasure and desire, she couldn't stop any of it. The man appeared to have taken over all her spare capacity.

_Habit. Obsession. Infatuation._

Whatever she called it, Leia would not–could not—allow it to impact on other areas of her life. Here she was, casually strolling along the corridors of the Rebel Base, heading toward her quarters in the officer accommodation wing on an otherwise uneventful afternoon. Although only a heartbeat away from breaking into a run, she was adept enough to be able to replay in her mind the conversation she had just had with the Han.

Her stomach had pitched when he had answered the audio call to his comlink in that distinctly gruff baritone. "Hey."

Leia had called Han from the relative quiet of an empty conference room, but she had kept her voice soft and measured for reasons of discretion and privacy.

"What are you doing?"

She had heard the smile in his voice. "Thinking about you. 'Bout all I've been doing since you left my bunk this morning."

Han had likewise filled her thoughts throughout the day, competing with meetings and briefings and reports.

"I'm sorry I haven't been able to call you until now," she had apologised. "I haven't even had time for lunch."

"You need to take care of yourself, Sweetheart. Or better yet, let _me_ take care of you."

Leia's heart had tripped at his expression of concern, but she had also caught his lewd undertone. "Are you able to talk?"

"Wait a sec..." She had heard his bootsteps, the _whoosh_ of a hatch closing and then, "Fire away."

"I have a holovid conference and a working dinner in less than an hour," she had told him. "But I want to freshen up before then." She had waited a beat before adding, "Perhaps I could see you in my quarters?"

Han had cleared his throat before asking, "And what did you have in mind?"

Recalling the brazen suggestion she had offered him now made Leia's core ache. "Letting you run your tongue across my ke'ché."

She had purposely used the Corellian idiom for female genitalia because she knew how much he loved her using the word, perhaps as much as she loved saying it. It somehow more adequately described that part of her body when she was aroused and seeking release.

"Didn't you get enough of my tongue last night, Princess?"

"I can never get enough of your tongue, Captain." She wondered if he had understood how accurate her remark had been.

Han had chuckled in response. "Anything else I can do for you?"

"Hmm..." Her feigned attempt at serious consideration hadn't fooled either of them. "Maybe I could ride your cock after that?"

Leia had heard a crash from the other end of the comlink.

"What was that?" she had asked, a mixture of concern, supposition and amusement.

Han's response had been rueful. "My cock hitting the bulkhead."

"Well I hope it's not too damaged.

He had seemed oblivious to her quip. "When?"

"Oh? Now." As she hadn't wanted to sound too pushy or demanding she had suggested, "Ten minutes?"

Leia suspected Han was halfway down the ramp of his ship as he'd replied, "I'll see you there."

As she approached the door to her relatively modest room, Leia wondered if Han had arrived before she had. Two days ago, he had found a way to override the hatchway access identification system that was keyed to Leia's fingerprints. How he had gone undetected while effectively burgling her room should have been a concern. A week ago, she would have added this criminal trait to her list of why she needed to keep Han at arm's length. Now, she was impressed with his ingenuity and fascinated by where he had obtained such a skill.

The door slid open as the security reader recognised her fingertips. Unsurprisingly, Han was waiting for her, standing just inside the room and off to one side so he couldn't be seen by anyone who wasn't standing at the entrance. His unshaven face broke into a crooked grin and he extended a work-soiled hand towards her. Leia returned his smile, slipped her palm into his, ignoring the grime and simply enjoying his touch and look. Under his smoldering gaze, she practically simmered.

Han Solo typically wore a scowl, a hard-eyed glower designed to intimidate and unsettle; it was just that wonderful way he had with people. When he eventually smiled, it was as if the sun broke through the clouds on a rainy day. His face would light up, the depths of his guarded hazel eyes sparkling with good humour, his lips lifting into an asymmetrical line that was more smirk than smile. Leia felt privileged that she now saw more of this latter Han than the former.

"Princess." He half-bowed in faux deference, his mussed hair falling over one brow.

Leia acknowledged his greeting with the imitation of a haughty response, a minor incline of her head as she raked her eyes over him. "Captain."

She had always appreciated the way his trousers sat on the lower half of his body, and now they were intimately involved she could openly stare at him, admiring his long legs and narrow waist. The ubiquitous gun rig hung low on his hips, the DL-44 nestled in its holster. Due to the dry heat on this small, nameless moon they were based on, he wore a khaki, short-sleeved t-shirt soiled with sweat and grease. The shirt stretched over his broad shoulders and down his arms, outlining his deltoid and biceps muscles in tantalising detail. A small tear in the front of the shirt, above his heart, revealed a teasing glimpse of skin and chest hair. _Lean and hungry_.

He had clearly been in a hurry to see her, not bothering to change or wash-up, even if she had only given him ten minutes. Leia was glad for it. The sight of him had raised her pulse, the touch of her hand in his increasing her need for him.

Leia stepped into the room as Han gently pulled her towards him, his other hand reaching across to hit the door's access mechanism, sealing the hatch behind her. Maintaining his tilted posture, Han lowered his face to hers, his eyes sparkling with promise and mischief.

"Your Highnessness," he teased, his other arm encircling her waist.

"Delinquent smuggler," she responded, her breath catching in her throat.

His cheek scraped hers, the rasp of his beard sparking a frisson that sizzled throughout her body, firing along nerve and neural pathways. He used his nose to brush aside a tendril of her hair, moved towards her ear and whispered, "Leia."

She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer as she pressed her body along the length of his. He gathered his arms around her back and held her like he would never let her go. Her mouth found the stubbled skin of his neck, jawline and chin before reaching his lips. Their mouths opened, stretched; tongues prodding, stroking; kissing with the heat of lovers reunited after months, not mere hours, apart. This was not, Leia knew, the kiss of friendship, but she was long past caring. This was what she wanted.

Their passion gradually eased, kisses becoming the gentle nudging of lips, lifting at the edges, until they came to rest with their foreheads pressed together. Straining to overcome their height difference, she found herself standing on the toes of his boots, noses touching, staring into each other's eyes. Her skin tingled from the burn of his stubble.

Han moved his head in a slow shake against hers. "Can't seem to get enough of you."

His voice was husky, a mix of wonder, confusion and something terrifyingly familiar that set off her internal alarms, compelling her to step quickly past this point. Fortunately, there was a rather obvious distraction sandwiched between them and pressing into her stomach. She slid her forehead from his and pressed her hand against his erection. Her caress appeared to have the desired effect on Han. He briefly closed his eyes and leaned into her palm. When he looked at her back her, his cheeky grin had returned.

"Why are you always so hard and ready?" she asked, her fingers tracing the outline of him through his trousers.

"Your fault entirely," he explained, schooling his features into a mask of innocence while leaning firmly into her touch. "It's got nothing to do with me."

Leia suppressed a half-sceptical laugh and continued her exploration, drawing her fingers up and down his erection.

"Told you I've been thinking about you all day, Princess. This is one of the side effects of that thinking."

"I suspect," she proposed, "there's a line there about you thinking too much. But considering that thinking was about me, I'll allow it."

"You'll allow it?" His tone was one of amused incredulity, at least as much as he could muster with her hand on his cock. "That's very gener–"

His words strangled in his throat as Leia rather forcefully squeezed the length of him with her whole hand.

"It is, isn't it," she sassily agreed, increasing the pressure, massaging and kneading him, relishing the resultant play of reaction across his face and feeling him getting harder and hotter. The dull ache at the apex of her legs increased to an insistent throb.

Had she only been doing this for five days?

"You're an easy man to please," Leia remarked, marvelling at how little it took to turn him on.

Han's reply was an octave higher than usual. "Only when you're involved."

His eyes watched in delight as she began to release the fasteners of his trousers, leaving the buckle of his belt closed, but his voice rang with mock doom and horror, "I've created a monster."

Mildly irked that he seemed to be taking responsibility for her audacity, Leia corrected, "Not created. More like 'unleashed'."

When the broad clasp of his holster appeared to impede her, he went to assist her efforts. She swatted away his hand, shook her head. "Uh-uh. I can do this. Put your hands behind your back."

He smirked down at her but did as he was told. "You gonna break out the binders next?"

Leia gave him a sultry look. "You'd probably enjoy it too much."

His lips turned with sensual reflection. "Sounds like you know me too well."

"Sounds like I do." Returning to the fasteners on his trousers, she added, "_I'd_ probably enjoy it too much."

"Mmm…promising."

She glanced up from her task. "Perhaps another time."

"I'll hold you to that," he said, just as she slipped her hand inside his trousers and caressed him through the soft fabric of his boxer briefs.

Her eyes returned to his, matched his smile. Then she slid her fingers over the top of the band of his underwear and clasped his warm flesh in her hand. Han didn't even attempt to suppress a groan.

It took two hands and a bit of manoeuvring, including a helpful shift of his hips, for Leia to fully extract him from his trousers. Han made a slight grunt as she clasped her palm around the circumference of his erection. She gently squeezed, pushed her hand towards his body, slid it back towards herself, stopping when she reached the head of his cock. She squeezed again, moving along the shaft to the tight muscle of his lower abdomen, alternating between watching her work and looking up at the reactions she was eliciting from him, soft sighs of gratification, a deeper rumble when he particularly enjoyed something she was doing.

Since early adulthood, Leia had found the human penis to be exceptionally ridiculous, in any state of its existence or by any name. Flaccid, it was not particularly attractive. Aroused, it could regularly lead its owner astray. Granted, it did have its uses, but some men used their penis to exercise power and control, to intimidate, dominate and harm. Han Solo was not one of those men.

Leia had quickly grown to appreciate Han's cock. To her it embodied the trust and openness that had developed between them; the potential for pleasure, for both him and her; and a vulnerability in him that only she was privileged to see. It conveyed strength, virility and unequivocal masculinity. It was all of this, and at the same time there was still something inherently ridiculous about it, which appeared to sum up Han Solo perfectly.

Leia's desire crested as she noticed the pre-cum glistening on the tip.

"Are you thinking with your other head again?" she teased. "You're leaking."

"Don't have enough blood to run two heads at the same time," Han explained. "You should know that. Besides I told you, it's all your fault."

Leia swirled a finger across the head, scooping up the fluid. "You know I said I haven't had any lunch…?"

She waited until she had his full attention, then placed the end of her finger on the tip of her tongue. He stopped, dead still, his jaw unhitched, watching as she closed her lips around her finger, sucking as she slowly pulled her finger out. The sweet-salty taste of him lingered on her tongue; another first for her.

A cross between a whimper and gurgle sounded deep in Han's throat.

Re-setting her grip, she softly commanded, "Come with me," and pulled him forward, heading towards her bunk.

Arms still behind his back, Han obeyed her, as submissive as an Imperial Academy freshman. "Yes, ma'am."

Leia settled on the edge of her bed, guiding Han in front of her. Adjusting her hold on his cock, she crooked two fingers of her free hand through a belt loop on his hip and pulled him closer. She looked up at him, glanced at the door, then back at him. His expectant, almost imploring gaze never shifted from her and the hold she had on him.

"I certainly hope you secured the hatch,'' she said, guilelessly licking her lips. "I'd hate for someone to walk in and see what I'm about to do to you."

He swallowed deeply, murmured, "Fuck 'em."

Smiling her sensual smile at him, she leaned forward and tenderly blew a whisper of her breath across the head of his cock. A moan of sweet anguish broke from his throat, and she loved it.

Holding him firmly with one hand near his abdomen and the other flat against his thigh, Leia started with a kiss, a soft press to the tip, his skin smooth and warm against her lips.

Arms now quivering at his sides, his exhale was long, uneven, and flecked with a stuttered, "Aa-aa-aa..."

A light lick of her tongue, tip to tip, then wider across her tastebuds, more fully experiencing his pre-ejaculate, savouring and memorising the taste of him while vainly squeezing her legs together to satisfy her own needs.

Leia's lips nudged open, up over the rounded glans. She took him fully into her mouth, pulled him in over the ridge of the head, then backed off. Slid her mouth over him three more times, before releasing him, seeking input on whether she had successfully pleasured him.

His hand suddenly cradled the side of her face, from her jaw up into her hair. She looked up in time to see his mouth go slack and eyelids flutter shut.

"Another fantasy come true, Solo?" she ribbed.

It took him a moment before he could open his eyes again and huskily reply, "How could you tell?"

"So I'm doing all right?" she ventured. "On the right track?"

"You're a natural," he assured her.

"That's nice to know," she said with a satisfied smile, and turned back to her work.

She mouthed him again, adding more of her tongue, lapping and sucking in response to his groans of pleasure. Bouncing the head of his cock off the inside of her mouth, she felt his other hand tenderly cup the side of her face. She slowed, stopped to take a breath, then opened her jaw wider, curious as to how much of him she could take in her mouth. She quickly realised she did not have the necessary biology to fully accommodate him.

He was around 15 centimetres erect, about two of her stacked hands in length, but she could only fit about a third of him into her mouth before the pharyngeal reflex kicked in and she slid him out again.

_Two hands. _That play on words amused her: Her one Han was two hands. She had no idea how she could ever be with him in the same room again with others around when she had _that_ intimate level of knowledge about him.

Deciding she would not allow this limitation to deter her, Leia instead ran her tongue the full length of him, working her way around the circumference of him, before plunging him back into her mouth. Beneath the hand still resting against his thigh, she could feel his muscles tremble. His breathing quickened, gratified gasps breaking against his lips.

Leia focused on rapidly drawing him into and out of her mouth; short, sharp pulls, popping and sucking until she nearly brought him undone.

"No-no-no-no-no..." His protests died in a reluctant cry as he suddenly pulled away from her, releasing his hands from her face and taking a step back.

Panting and wryly shaking his head, he returned a hand to her cheek, smoothing away her incomprehension.

"I don't wanna come in your mouth," he gently explained.

Her frown melted into a smirk. "Why not? I come in yours."

His rejoining smile was soft and affectionate. "Not quite the same. I'd rather come inside you. More fun that way, for both of us." He winked at her. "And I can't have you sitting there at your working dinner, frustrated as all hell that you never got to ride my cock."

Leia pursed her lips in serious consideration. "I suppose you're right," then facetiously added, "Plus I'll also have the pleasure of feeling you seeping from my ke'ché as the dinner progresses."

She stuck her tongue in the side of her mouth, a swelling of sarcasm and absurdity, watched him take a moment to process her words. The credit dropped; his eyes first shone with sweet adoration then outright hunger as he swept her up into his arms and bundled them both onto the bed. He landed half on top of her, one long leg spread across her hips, his erection once again sandwiched between them. His hands were all over her as his mouth worked from her throat, up her neck to her ear, down the line of her jaw to her lips, kissing, sucking and biting. The burn from his stubble inflamed her need for him.

Her naivety should have caused her to be alarmed by his fervour. But Leia had experience with this man—albeit five days in duration—and she knew he would not harm her. She had discovered that his fire fuelled her own desires. And she had worked out a way to guide his intensity and rein him in when needed.

Leia threaded her fingers through his hair, tugged his head up and away to create a small space between their mouths to slow him down. She delicately pressed her lips against the end of his nose. His eyes closed, a breath shuddered from his throat and his intensity subdued. She continued brushing closed-mouth kisses on his cheek, his lips and along the scar on his chin, one hand still in his hair while the other gently pushed his upper shoulder back until she had him flat against the bed. Lying across his chest, her elbows levering into his ribs, she deepened the kiss, long and languid.

They came to a stillness, mouths open as they inhaled each other's breath.

"Stay like that," Leia whispered. "I'll just be a moment."

She pushed herself off him and started undressing, toeing her boots off, then shimmying out of her uniform trousers—grease-smudged from his touch—and damp underpants. Han watched her intently, seemingly unperturbed that he remained fully clothed, apart from his erection poking out from his trousers; he had clearly worked out that she intended riding him as she had told him earlier, with the further nuance of him remaining dressed.

Leia smiled at him as he undid the re-straining strap on his holster and withdrew his blaster, placed it at the foot of the bed, then removed the cylindrical droid caller from the left side of his gun rig, dropped it next to his blaster, freeing up his legs and hips for her thighs. His actions would certainly make her ride more comfortable.

Leaving her shirt on, Leia dove into a bunkside drawer and retrieved a tube of the personal lubricant Han had introduced her to five days ago. The gel had enhanced their lovemaking sessions, providing added stimulus while reducing the tightness of over-enthusiasm and overuse.

She opened the tube, squeezed the lubricant onto her fingers and palm, and returned to the bed, taking a moment to appreciate the sight of a fully clothed, recumbent but erect Han Solo. She couldn't believe how much she ached for this man.

"I wish I could take an image of this," Leia intoned, flexing her hand.

Han spread his arms wide, as if posing for her. "I'm at the stage where you can do whatever you want to me."

She gave him a sultry look. "Don't you wish."

"Yeah," he simply replied, "I do."

Leia placed a knee on the bed next to his thigh, leaned down and forcefully grabbed hold of his erection, claiming it before someone else could. A satisfied growl grumbled up from his chest as she stroked the lubricant up and down him. Holding his erection upright, she straddled his hips and drew the tip of him through the folds of her sex, teasing and tantalising them both before slowly lowering herself onto him, relishing every rigid centimetre. They both sighed with gratification as she came to rest fully on his body, the outer lips of her sex pressing blissfully against the rough fabric of his trousers. Leia closed her eyes and wallowed in the incredible sensation of being one with Han.

Raising herself on her knees, she slipped back up the length of him as he settled his hands along the angle of her hips and thighs, his fingers stretching to cup her backside. She matched his touch by gripping his hips just below the belt of his gun rig, holding him here to help concentrate on the source of ecstasy pulsing into her.

She squeezed him with her internal muscles, throbbing in response to his contented moan. Released him, slid down again, his hips lifting to meet her body in a benign collision. Then she did what she had set out to do from the start—rocked her hips forward, gasping as she hit cool, shiver-inducing metal: the buckle of his holster.

She tilted her groin, slanted her body, straining for more intensity, and was rewarded with a further sting of cold, hard metal. She groaned as a rush of heat emanating from between her thighs surged through her system. Squeezed him, rocked again; another, deeper gasp.

Han responded with his own moan before bending his right knee, raising his leg to reach the tie down strap of the holster, snapped it open. Leia rose up again upon him and, tugging one hand on the leather, he jiggled the holster buckle closer to his erection, creating a broad plane of stimulation for her. It was the inspiration she needed to focus on increasing the intense sensations causing her to quiver, shake and moan on top of him.

Somehow, she found the clarity to open her uniform shirt, slip her breasts out of her bra as she continued squeezing him, moving up, down, forward and back on him, grinding her sex on his buckle. Han seized her breasts in his palms, cupping and kneading her, marking her with the grease from his ship. His breathing shortened, eyelids fluttering, clearly struggling not to lose it before Leia's needs had been met.

Her desire was all-consuming, rising from her core, humming and rolling through her in waves as it drove her towards the peak. She thought about the different shapes and textures she rubbed against; which angles of approach worked best; which parts of her anatomy reacted to which stimuli; sensitivity and hyper-sensitivity.

Her breath was loud and harsh in her ears, her pulse thumping at the base of her neck as she struggled to climax. Unexpectedly, she faltered, fumbled, her passion slipping, stumbling out of cadence with her body. Gasping, she came to a sudden and dismayed halt, wondering if she'd gotten her ambitions mixed up with her capabilities, or if the notion of using his holster as a sex aid was just plain absurd. She was, after all, excruciatingly inexperienced.

Beneath her, Han blinked. Frenetically. But he was quicker on the uptake than she was, more knowledgeable in this arena of lovemaking. He removed his hands from her breasts, softly caressing her forearms instead.

"What's wrong?"

"I-I-I don't…" Flustered and painfully self-conscious. "I'm sorry. I just…lost it. I'm sorry."

"Shh…it's okay," he soothed. "You're thinking about it too much. Just let go and enjoy it for what it is."

She couldn't disappoint him, not after she had led him on, had promised so much. Didn't want him to think she was a tease, or worse—a prude who couldn't deliver when it mattered. Disheartened, she hunted through her limited understanding of lovemaking.

"Why don't you take me from behind?" Leia brightly suggested. That's what men liked most, wasn't it? The dominant position?

Han frowned. "Because I don't wanna _take you from behind_," he told her, emphasising each word of her suggestion. "I wanna see your face when you come. That's what I enjoy. That's what makes _me_ come."

Leia's heart swelled with…what? _Gratitude? Rapport? Friendship?_

Seeing _her_ come made _him_ come.

There was undeniably a serving of desire in there. But the rest…? It felt stronger, deeper, and twinged inside her chest.

"You're an incredibly sexy woman." Han rocked her forward on his hips. "I _want_ you to fuck me. But you have to stop thinking so damn much." He swiped an affectionate finger down her nose. "I wanna see you up there riding me like there's no tomorrow. Riding me like you—"

"—like I own it?" she interrupted, raising an eyebrow.

His lips twisted into a wry grin. "I was gonna say 'like you stole it', but…" He shrugged. "Sure, why not. Like you own it." He took her hands in his, lacing his fingers with hers. "No-one else does."

He pulled her down onto his chest, her hands holding his up near his shoulders, pressing down onto him. He brushed his lips against hers, opened them with his tongue and swept it into her mouth at the same time he flexed his erection. Lifting his hips, he pushed himself further into her, then slowly lowered, the motion drawing him down in an agonisingly delicious friction; the plane of the holster buckle was cool against her skin, but not invigorating as it had been. In, out, in, out…his tongue glided past her teeth in sync with the motion of their bodies. Leia moaned, her sigh humming along the length of his tongue.

Clasping his fingers around hers, he pressed into her palms, pushing her up into a seated position. Placing his hands back on her thighs, he adjusted her position on his body and returned control back to her.

Unconvinced that this was going to end the way they both hoped, Leia gave a half-hearted push of her hips. The simmering rush that compelled her only moments ago failed to re-ignite. She made a huff of annoyance in her mouth.

Han was anything but indecisive in bed. "Okay, let's try something else."

Leveraging himself up on an elbow, he used the other hand to release the buckle of his holster, slinging it off the bed where it clattered onto the floor. He sat up further, sliding her back down his legs and pushing himself out of her in the process. Pressing a quick kiss to her lips, he collected her in his arms and rolled her over onto her back, positioning himself between her legs in a movement they regularly practised.

Leia watched as he unbuckled his belt and shoved his trousers and boxers down, bunching them around his lower thighs as he knelt above her. He left his boots and t-shirt on, probably thinking it would only cause further disruption.

Now feeling overdressed, she shrugged off her shirt and bra off as he tugged her closer, angled her knees up around his hips with her lower legs passing over his elbows, fingers grasping her thighs. He eased himself back inside her, eyes closing with a relief that she shared.

Leia loved this position. The angle allowed him to reach deep into her and narrowed her around him, providing greater stimulation for them both. She could see the play of emotions on his expressive face. And her eyes could follow the strong line of his neck, the sharp incline of his jaw. He looked magnificent: long, lean and hers.

Han commenced a familiar rhythm of strokes: short, short, short, long, then a pulsing stillness that caused him to softly moan. Leia added her own throaty sigh as she squeezed him in reply. He continued the cadence for a few rounds before he stopped completely and gave her a bewildered, if affectionate, stare.

"I'm not gonna last much longer if you keep that up," he told her.

Leia ran her hands up his arms. "I know," she teased. "And you deserve it."

Frowning, he asked, "I thought you wanted to be on top? That's what I was working towards."

Leaning up, she pulled him down at the same time, placed her mouth against his throat.

"Just fuck me," she appealed into his skin, his stubble scratching her lips.

He needed no further encouragement, trying his best to maintain his long, deep strokes while she held on him, her calves tucked over the back of his thighs, clutching him tightly against her. His intense thrusts, combined with the pressure of him hard up between her legs, were wild and deeply satisfying. One hand over his shoulder, the other clasping at his chest, fingers entangled in his t-shirt; she licked, sucked and bit at his neck until she reached the bulge at the front of his throat, covered it with her mouth and whispered his name into it, over and over…

She sensed his climax building, felt it before he did. It was explosive, all-consuming in ferocity and exhilaration, causing him to cry out as he continued pumping into her. Then reality hit him, contorting his face with frustration, guilt and self-recrimination. She kept her hold on him until, panting, he pushed himself up.

He shook his head, clearly annoyed with himself. "Fuck."

Kneeling above her, still inside her, hips moving, thrusting on their own accord.

"Fuck. Shit." He came to a stop and gave her a small, apologetic grimace. "You didn't..."

Leia ran her fingers along his quivering thigh muscles in a soothing, consoling gesture. "It's okay."

He looked at her sceptically. "_Okay_?"

They were at the beginning of this new stage of their relationship—their friendship. Trying to discover what worked for each other. It was never going to be perfect. The history between them had already proven that. Leia was just grateful he cared enough to be concerned for her.

Concerned, but not convinced. "Hmm," he grumbled.

She tried to reassure him. "It was wonderful. I'm fine. I don't need to come every time." She wasn't sure when she had decided that, but it rang true as she said it. "It's enough to enjoy this with you. Perhaps not every time—"

The corner of his mouth quirked up and his eyes widened as if this comment contradicted her prior assetion.

"—but right now, I'm more than satisfied."

Han placed his hands on either side of her shoulders and pressed a gentle kiss to her lips. Pulling back, his hazel-green eyes were soft with gratitude.

"Thank you."

"My pleasure."

He kissed her again. Then with a weary groan, pulled out and dropped onto the bed next to her, rolling onto his back.

"Getting old,"" he muttered, as she settled against him, her leg hiked up over his hip, arm over his waist, resting on his chest below his collarbone, the curve of his shoulder cradling the back of her head as his arm came around her to hold her.

Leia closed her eyes and listened to his heart beating, her head rising and falling with each breath he took as the warmth of his body embraced her. She inhaled, the scent of him and of their lovemaking, filling her with calm and contentment. As wonderful as she found her sexual release to be, this was what she craved the most. And so, she allowed herself a few brief minutes to simply be there with him.

Eventually though, she snuck a glance at her wrist chrono.

"I'm going to be late," she said, more to herself than to him.

His voice rumbled against her ear as he agreed, "You're going to be late."

Neither of them made a move to get up.

His breathing deepened, and she thought he had fallen asleep when he unexpectedly asked, "How long you been thinking about that one?"

Leia smiled against his chest, circled a finger around a chest hair. "Not long. A few days."

He had developed the canny ability to identify her half-truths when it came to him. "Mm-hmm?"

And she no longer found herself immune to his impudent questions. "Maybe a few months."

She squealed when he squeezed her

"Leia Organa. You horny woman."

A blush coloured her cheeks, both for the squeal and the revelation.

Han did his best to sound affronted. "I almost feel used. Like a sex object."

"That's your holster," she couldn't resist pointing out, "not you."

He held her closer against him, mushed a kiss into her forehead. "I guess, seeing as you've been scheming—"

"Scheming!"

"—about this for so long, we'll have to give it another go."

Leia levered herself up on her elbow she could look at him, a smugness plucking at her lips. "Maybe you could leave your holster with me so I can practise."

The colour in his eyes darkened. "Maybe you could let me watch you practise."

She poked an accusing finger into his stomach. "Who's the horny one?"

"Ah, see." His mouth pursed knowingly as he nodded. "You're gettin' to know me far too well. I'm gonna have to do something about that."

She barked out a laugh and challenged, "Like what?"

His eyes twinkled with playful intent and he assured her, "I'll work something out."

He grunted as she leaned heavily into his ribs, jarring the air from his lungs. His eyes remained fixed on hers as she delicately caressed a finger along his jawline, moved up to trace the slash of scar across his chin.

For moment, Leia thought he was going to say something. A weight appeared to burden the tip of is tongue. Instead he cleared his throat, dropped his gaze from hers.

The moment gone, Leia watched her fingertips smooth the skin above his collarbone, futilely rubbing at a bite mark she had left.

"Rieekan commed me today," she heard him finally say. "Wanted to know why I pulled the _Falcon_ off the transport sked."

Four days ago—the day after they become intimate—Han had removed his ship, himself and Chewbacca from the operational listing on the Base's transport schedule. The strategic, level-headed Leia—the Rebel leader—had silently decried his actions to be disruptive and unnecessary. But the Leia currently lying in his arms considered it a blessing; a tiny refuge of peace and stability in an otherwise life-sapping war.

"Rieekan asked me the same thing this morning," she admitted. "Your absence from the schedule has been noticed." She grimaced, hating the way her voice had taken on a vaguely condescending tone. "I told him I wasn't your keeper; I didn't have the faintest idea why you'd done it; and that he'd have to ask you."

Han muttered, "He suspects something."

"Everyone suspects something." She had heard the whispers. Seen the knowing stares. Noted the probing glances cast her way when Han's name was mentioned in her presence. "What did you tell him?"

His response was astonishingly businesslike. "That I had another more important job of seeing to the carnal needs of a certain princess, so I couldn't very well be running freight for the Rebellion at the same time."

Leia grinned. "Which princess would that be?"

He gave her a blank look, shook his head. "No idea. I've got no idea know what you're talking about. Torture me all you like. I won't admit to anything."

She giggled at his totally unbelievable performance and he smiled.

Eventually, he conceded his response to the Alderaanian general and Base Commander. "Told him the _Falcon_ needed some down time, and me and Chewie were trying to get her back on-line as quickly as possible."

Leia considered his admission. "Did he believe you?"

Han grinned again. "About the _Falcon_, or you fucking me?"

She found her patience thinning. "Either. Or. Both."

Again, he dropped his gaze from hers. "I told him I'd try to get back on the sked in the next day or so."

A disconcerting emptiness hollowed out her stomach. This was what she had wanted him—needed him—to say. Except it wasn't. "Um...okay..."

Han couldn't keep his mouth shut. "You know I need the credits."

Leia dug her elbows hard into his ribs. "You didn't have to say that."

Ignoring his half-bewildered/half-contrite look, she pushed herself out of his arms and headed into the adjoining 'fresher suite, sitting down on the sani-unit a little more heavily than she intended.

As she relieved herself, she heard him call out to her, "It's gonna happen eventually."

_What? _she irritably thought. _You re-commencing freighting runs? Our affair becoming public knowledge? Leaving the Alliance for good? The bounty on your stupid head finally being collected?_

Leia wasn't game to ask him to clarify.

She took a deep, relaxing breath, preparing for the rest of her day. She flushed, stood up again, looked at herself in the mirror above the basin. And opened her mouth in consternation as she saw the state she was in. As expected, the coronet of plaits in her hair was loose, dishevelled; she would have to re-braid it from scratch. The skin of her cheeks and around her mouth had been rubbed red, raw and angry from his stubble. And there was more: faint streaks and smudges of grunge—from the _Falcon_, from Han—crisscrossed her body and face, including a long swipe down her nose.

There was scant time for a 'fresher, water or sonics, and she doubted either would be sufficient to readily remove the grease. The best she could hope for was that hand-wash and moisturiser might at least help with her face. And neck. And hands.

Remarkably, she wasn't inclined to be mad with Han. Their afternoon tryst had been her idea, after all, and she hadn't given him any time to prepare.

Leia used a washcloth to dab at the fluid trickling down her inner thighs. Yes, as she'd told him, she'd be sitting in _that_ all night. Taking him with her to the vid conference and the working dinner. A blessing and a pain, just like the Han.

She was finding some success with the cloth and soap, when Han appeared in the doorway, his reflection looking back at her in the mirror. Now dressed, gun rig on his hips, his hair a mess from where she had been running her fingers through it. Underneath the stubble, the skin on his neck was almost as red as her face, discoloured bruising beginning to emerge.

His mouth made an 'o' when he saw what she was doing, shrugged and pressed his lips together as he nerfishly took responsibility for the way she looked. Leia briefly stopped and poked her tongue at him.

Tapping the jagged edges of the rip in his t-shirt that now reached towards his stomach, he said, "You put a hole in my shirt."

Leia continued scrubbing at the smudges on her face. "It was already there."

His eyes widened. "You put a _bigger_ hole in my shirt."

"Well now it'll match the hole in your head."

He stuck his tongue out at her, then rolled the edges of it together and moved it in and out of his mouth in a distinctly filthy gesture. She dismissed him with a shake of her head, pausing as he stepped up behind her. The reflection of his face was composed, subdued, as he placed his hands on her hips, rested his chin on the crown of her head.

Leia looked at herself and Han in the mirror, standing there; the grime on her naked body; the height disparity; and all the other disparities combined.

How in the hell was this going to work?

"Will I see you later tonight?" he softly asked her.

She gestured at herself with the cloth. "Later tonight, I'll probably still be trying to get this grease off my body."

He pressed a kiss into her neck, nudged himself closer. "I've got something in the _Falcon_ that'll help."

"I bet you do," she murmured, placing her hands over the top of his. "I'm not sure when I'll finish. But I'll try to make it. Don't wait up for me."

"'I'll wait up for you," he promised. "That's what friends are for."


End file.
